


Husky Handyman Seduces Lonely Disaster

by ceilingfan5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Noya Is Thirsty, Slice of Life, handyman, noya blows up his oven and handyman asahi blows his mind, tanaka gives brief but good advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a "My handyman is so cute that I started breaking shit to see him again" au</p><p>“-Fix your oven?” Perfect Guy finished and looked at Noya like he had been expecting him to listen to the smooth, deep, quiet words coming out of his mouth instead of eyeing him up. A question. Fuck. Fuck, okay. He had this. This was his apartment. He knew what was going on here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Husky Handyman Seduces Lonely Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> the other fic im writng got really long so i decided to take a break and write something "short" and fun. thanks to shafusu and coolangelsthesis/vurtkonnegut for beta-ing! and dont worry-Fly isn't dead, we just got busy with school! if you miss it, let us know! also keep an eye out for Over The Moon For Her (the long thing) if you like kiyoyachi and/or werewolves. 
> 
> enjoy!

Nishinoya Yuu had never thought independent living would be this difficult. Finding an apartment had been a struggle, but he had lucked out in the end. Moving in without a car had been a challenge, but he was always up to creative problem solving. The knob falling off of his dryer had been a real issue, but he had solved that with a pair of pliers and three sticks of gum. 

Blowing the door off his oven, however, seemed to be a challenge he couldn’t overcome by himself.

He hadn’t meant to do it, honestly. It wasn’t a science experiment or anything. It was just supposed to be his dinner and he had put it in for the right about of time and he had poked holes in the potatoes and everything, but what did he come back to? Disaster. Even more disaster than usual. This was like a 500% increase of disaster over his bottom margin. 

He hadn’t even known where to start. What do you do when a fucking cannon goes off in your kitchen and your dinner is ruined and your floor is covered in danger and there’s a metal thing stuck in the wall at the kind of angle that makes your stomach hurt? There was glass everywhere--literally everywhere--and he had no idea what to do. He must have stood there for a good twenty minutes before he very carefully retrieved his shoes (every fiber of his being preparing him to get yelled at for the household infraction) and began to sweep up the glass. 

God, there was a shitload of it. He filled a whole garbage bag, thought better of it because they were flimsy as hell, and started dumping it in a big box. Lucky he wasn’t fully moved in, he figured. It was kind of scary, like being in an armed minefield, and he was a little afraid to take his shoes off even after he’d checked the floor for glass four times. The metal bit he’d left in the wall. For evidence, he guessed, or maybe for art. It was pretty neat that it had been launched across the room, after all. His dinner obliterated, he ordered in, and all of his reasonable responsibilities taken care of, he decided it was time to face the music. 

He called his landlord. 

She was generally a friendly old lady, but when Noya very quietly informed her that he’d blown up her kitchen somehow, he had to hold the phone away from his face so his ears weren’t blown to bits too. She didn’t really appreciate it when he told her that he’d sort of like to know how he’d blown up the oven too, and it was well into her third lecture before she started to calm down and come up with a solution.

“I’ve got a handyman contact. I’ll send him over tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am,” he’d said dutifully, afraid to disagree lest it come out of next month’s rent. He was living on a tight budget already, no matter what he told himself when he bought figures on the internet. He really, really couldn’t afford a disaster like this (let alone another one). 

“Don’t explode anything else.” She had sounded so accusatory, like Noya had decided his evening’s entertainment would be gingerly stepping around glass with bare feet and sweeping like his life depended on it. It wasn’t like he had planned this!

“I won’t, ma’am,” he had said instead, as polite and respectful as an appliance murderer could be. Sucking it up was his only option. Another disaster and there was no doubt about it--he’d have to move back home.

He wasn’t happy about having to stay home all day waiting for the handyman, but it beat the alternative. The sooner this got taken care of, the less time he’d spend living on convenience store food. It was great in small doses, of course, but no one’s digestive track was built for that kind of thing.

It took all morning for the guy to show up. Noya watched cartoons, cleaned the house again, texted all of his friends who were busy having lives, and even went to the inconveniently located convenience store for something to eat when he was absolutely sure the guy wasn’t exactly a speed demon. Stupid handyman time windows. Wouldn’t it be more considerate to just make a specific appointment? Any contact of his landlady had to be some tottering old guy. Maybe it took him that long to walk there, or to pick his lunch out of his dentures. Noya poked at his own disappointing lunch, making a face and watching the egg salad squish out. One little accident and this was his life now. Mushy food and rendezvous with creepy old dudes.

He flopped back on the couch right as the doorbell rang and it took all of his willpower to get vertical again. Rolling backwards off his seat cheered him up a little.This was what he’d been waiting for, he reminded himself. He could get this over with and not break anything else and be done with handy-beings for the rest of his natural lifespan, which might not be impressive the way his luck was going lately.

He opened the door. And his heart fell out of his chest.

Who the fuck was this? Where was the mushy old man? This was someone closer to his age, a guy his age, a beautiful, adorable, smile-blinding-like-the-sun guy his age! And so tall, too! He had to be 180 cm, at least! Noya always hated to admit it, but he was a hard sucker for the tall ones. Height did things to him like nothing else did, and this guy wasn’t short of those other things. Sleek long hair, carefully pulled back in a wild-but-somehow-responsible sort of way, a cute goatee, and…

Holy fuck. Those muscles. Those muscles! Could this guy lift a truck? Sure, handy-manning had to be a job that took hard work, but Noya couldn’t tear his eyes off of those sick guns. He could swing from those arms… he wanted to swing from those arms. He wanted to swing from those arms really bad. Even the hair on those arms made him shiver. And then, and then those eyes, those beautiful eyes! Big brown cow eyes his neck had to strain to meet! They were a soft and tender contrast to the hard and juicy rest of him. Fuck, he was perfect. What was a perfect guy doing in an apartment like this? What was this perfect guy doing in his apartment?

“-Fix your oven?” Perfect Guy finished and looked at Noya like he had been expecting him to listen to the smooth, deep, quiet words coming out of his mouth instead of eyeing him up. A question. Fuck. Fuck, okay. He had this. This was his apartment. He knew what was going on here.

“Yeah,” he laughed, and it sounded too forced and airy to his ears and he cringed inwardly. His best friend’s words of wisdom echoed through the useless mush he had for a brain. Noya, you useless bisexual.

The Perfect Guy paused for a second, looking confused. He shifted on his feet and Noya could only think about how broad and solid those shoulders were.

“I- I’m Nishinoya Yuu!” He stuck his hand out, trying to confidence his way out of the awkward situation his stupidity had gotten him into. Useless bisexual. Useless bisexual! Noya wanted to text Tanaka to let him know to fuck off and quit haunting him. “I go by Noya, though!” he added the last bit as if he could get more familiar with this random stranger who was only in his home to do him a service and get out. A service. He swallowed a snicker. Now was a very, very bad time to start thinking about cheesy porno openings. 

“Right. Um. Azumane Asahi,” Mr. Perfect said, as if he was repeating himself. Noya wanted to kick his own ass. Tanaka’s words grew louder in his head, but they still couldn’t drown out the angelic chorus of TALL AND MUSCLES TALL AND MUSCLES TALL AND MUSCLES. And Asahi! What a great name! Oh, he could imagine using his first name. Getting very, very close. With the handyman. A really handy man, he hoped, and he bit his lip as hard as he could to stop the bullshit circus parade tromping through all of his rational thoughts. How dare his landlady send a hottie to do this job?? What kind of punishment was this?

Asahi- No. No, Azumane-san, cleared his throat and shifted again from one enormous, perfect foot to the other. He wanted to ask about his shoe size. For scientific reasons, of course.

“Yes?” Noya asked, embarrassed by the tone in his voice. What was he, a dog? He was probably going to start drooling like one.

“Er. Your oven?”

Noya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Get it together, Yuu. You useless bisexual. He let all the air out, like a deflating balloon full of gay feelings, and opened his eyes again.

“Right this way!”

He showed Azumane-san the disaster zone and the box of glass and his new metal art piece on the wall. Azumane-san whistled.

“That’s. Huh. How did…?”

Noya shrugged, truly and deeply meaning it.

“It just sort of happened. I was making dinner, and I left the room, and I heard this huuuge WHABOOM and I ran back and my oven was exploded!” Noya used as many grand gestures as he could to tell the story, nearly hitting his guest in the process. The handyman just laughed, and Noya felt his heart sing.

“That’s...wow. I’m. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.” He scratched his head, letting a tiny clump of hair escape the bun, and Noya felt his heart jump into his chest like he’d never imagined a bunch of hairs could be so delicate and beautiful and sexy. He made a little wheezing noise he really hoped Azumane-san didn’t notice.

“Do you mind if I take pictures?” Go right ahead. Take all the pictures you need. And then he’ll take pictures of you, so many pictures, are you a model? You should be a model. You’ve got the bone structure for it. And-

“S-sure.” Noya tugged at his collar. He was in too deep. So deep! Where was that old man?? The old man could have prevented all of this!! What the hell was he doing, stuttering? He wasn’t a stuttering kind of guy!

Asahi took a few pictures with his phone (which had a sadly boring case and what looked like the default background, to Noya’s disappointment) before squatting in front of the oven to take a closer look. Noya almost had to look away, but those thick, perfect thighs held his eyes in maximum security captivity. 

“Yeah, it’s all warped here...”

“Uh-huh.” Noya’s mouth was dry. It was so, so dry. Like a desert made out of crackers, or his love life.

“I think..Uh. I’m going to need to replace the whole thing.”

“Uh-huh?” He straightened up and Noya’s eyes tracked him the whole way. 

“Sorry, but you’ll be out an oven until I can order you another door.”

“That’s fine! It’s okay! I sort of learned my lesson on cooking anyway!” What the hell was that? He was making an idiot of himself! He wasn’t actually that bad at cooking. What was he trying to do, turn this whole thing into a joke? He was laughing like some kind of heart-eyed idiot.

Azumane-san smiled. Jokes. Jokes were good. He could do jokes.

“Do you want me to pull that metal out of your wall?” He gestured to it, and Noya swallowed as he watched the muscles in his arm ripple ever so slightly. Shorter sleeves. He demanded shorter sleeves. 

“No! No, I kind of like it. It’s like a conversation piece, you know? Art.” He framed the shrapnel with his fingers and winked. Azumane-san laughed again and Noya decided he’d found a real live angel in the flesh. 

“Alright, well. I’ll get that door on order and see what I can do. I’ll probably be back on Monday.”

“It’s a date!” Noya squeaked. 

 

It was all he could think about for days. He pretended it was about the inconvenience of not being able to cook, but it was all about seeing his musclebound angel again. Tanaka got tired of him waxing poetic about that hair, and his landlady about killed him for repeatedly asking when the handyman would be back.

“Monday,” she’d snapped at him, and closed the door in his face. He’d never wanted a Monday to come so badly. The long, long hours it took were worth it, though, because his knight in shining tool belt returned with his oven door like a hero out of a story book. His attractiveness was even more blinding than the week before, and his cute laugh even more knee-melting, and his hair and his muscles and his eyes and his voice and suddenly he was handing Noya the invoice and wait wait what? It couldn’t be over! Was their love story supposed to end here, with a fixed oven and no cell phone number and Azumane-san giving him that cute little hat tip? He couldn’t just let him go! He couldn’t give this up!!

“What if I need you again??” he blurted, not thinking to choose his words carefully (but oh, did he ever) and squeezing his fists like it would hold his new crush back from the door.

“Well, your landlady has my number.” He shrugged noncommittally but even that was cute. God, those shoulders! He could sit on those shoulders!

“My dryer is broken too!!” Yes! Yes, he knew all that suffering would come in handy!

“Oh, is it?” Azumane-san stuck his thumbs in his pockets and Noya tried not to drool. He was weak, so weak!! “I’ll have to come back. We can only do one service every time we come.”

Initial snicker at the phrasing disguised with a sneeze, Noya knew he was onto something here. If they could only do one at a time, then what was stopping him from, say...spreading out his problems? Perhaps a little more...liberally...than nature had given them to him in the first place? His faucet could easily be convinced to leak, and well, the tile was coming up in the hallway anyway.

“Can I have your number?” He inhaled. “For. Scheduling reasons!”

“Yeah, alright.” Azumane-san pulled a business card from his back pocket and scribbled his number on the reverse side. “Our lines are down right now, so you can use my cell phone.”

“Uh huh!”

“I think I can be back this Friday to look at your dryer? I’ll have to check.”

And so Nishinoya’s dastardly plot began. First he called in real problems, like his dryer and the very scary looking stuff he found under the kitchen sink, which turned out to be mold. But faced with never seeing his handyman again, he had to get creative. First was the sink. That was easy. Less easy was getting his bathroom door to “fall off” the hinges. Perhaps the most difficult challenge he faced, though, was the most rewarding. He broke his own air conditioning unit.

Azumane-san (who had told him that Asahi was fine!!) had tried to remain professional when he came to fix it, but Noya’s handiwork had been just too effective. He had been suffering the consequences for days, but it was about to pay off. The summer was scorching and humid and there was no shade or shelter from the heat. 

The long sleeved shirt came off first. Just seeing him in a tank top was enough to thank the gods. Those ARMS! Where the hell had he been hiding them? It had to be a crime against humanity to lock them up in a shirt with sleeves, let alone long ones! Professional appearance be damned!! He looked so gorgeous in that tank top that Noya tried to commit every movement to memory. There was no way he was going to let this go to waste.

And then even better, when Noya had brought him lemonade--which sparkled in the fucking sunlight as it dripped down his chin and he sighed happily and wiped the sweat off his brow and Noya almost! had! a heart attack!!!-- he had turned, so sheepish, to Noya, who was having trouble breathing, and asked him, as politely as possible, if it would be okay? to take off? his shirt??? 

This was an offer he couldn’t possibly refuse. 

Noya took off his own shirt for solidarity, and also because he was starting to feel like a Bored And Lonely Housewife about to have a religious experience in his own kitchen. He was a man, dammit! Too far. So far. There was no going back. He almost passed out. Heat stroke. Definitely. Don’t worry about him. Just keep lifting things. Maybe turn that screwdriver some more. He would be totally, absolutely, one hundred percent bueno. Getting his AC fixed was only the icing on the beefcake.

And then his landlady ruined everything.

“What the hell are you doing in there? Are you hosting frat parties?? You can’t keep breaking things! You get four free calls a year! Do you know how many times the handyman has come to your apartment in the last two months?”

“Three...eeee?” Noya wagered, nervous.

“SEVEN.”

“Oh.”

“YEAH, OH. IT’S GOING TO COME OUT OF YOUR RENT!”

Oohhhhhhh. Oh fuck. Ooohhhhhh fuck. He really should have read those house rules when he moved in. Oh god.

“And stop calling him! Unless there’s a real fuckin’ emergency you can’t live without being fixed!”

“Yes ma’am,” he’d mumbled. It was over. It was all over. He’d never see his handyman again. He’d never see those rippling muscles or his cute dimples or hear the surprisingly dry jokes he cracked or the way he talked to himself to problem solve or- or- or-

It was finished.

And so were his next three pay checks, apparently.

He couldn’t help it. He moped. It was like he’d been broken up with, but worse. And he’d never be able to see the guy again, probably. Jobs like that had a high turnover rate, didn’t they? By the time he had his next free appointment, the handyman really would be an old mushy guy, and his crush would be long gone.

He spent a good day or two in bed. Tanaka was a real dick about it too. 

“He’s just a handyman, bro.”

“But he was my handyman, dude.”

“Dude.”

“I knooooowwwww.” He had briefly considered suffocating himself with his own pillow, but thought better of it. His landlady would probably resurrect him just so he could carry his own smelly dead body out of her apartment. He wouldn’t put black magic past her.

“Did you try, you know, actually asking the guy out? Cause, I mean, logically, that ought to be the next step here?”

“But howw?? I haven’t hardly talked to the guy! I’ve just been oggling him like some kind of terrible middle aged woman in a porno!”

“First of all, ew.” Tanaka nudged him with his foot. “And second of all, get off your ass and be a man. Ask the dude on a date. The worst he’ll say is no.”

“What about, fuck off, you disgusting creep?” Noya ran a hand through his hair, regretting not geling it that morning. It had seemed like more work, but now it just made him feel even more deflated. 

“Did he really give you that vibe, though? I mean, if he was creeped, he could have just got someone else to take the job, you know.”

“Yeah?” Noya sat up. “Yeah! I mean, yeah! He wouldn’t- we both- He probably wouldn’t!”

“There’s my jolly Yuu-bear.”

Noya kicked Tanaka in the face, laughing. There was some truth in those words. Maybe he really had a chance here!

And if not, well. He was just a handyman, right? There were lots of handymen. (That was bullshit. This one was special and there was no denying it. It did make him feel a little more confident, though.)

He called the number. His hands were shaking. There was no disaster to stand behind this time, no way to assure he'd come over. The number finally picked up, and his breath caught. What the hell was he supposed to say?

"Nishinoya?"

"Um. Yeah." Asahi laughed and Noya's heart sang.

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. It's been awhile since you called."

"Has it?" He tugged at his blonde streak.

“Is it weird that I noticed that?" His laugh was more awkward this time. Was...was he nervous too? Why would he be nervous? "You're one of my, uh. Favorite customers."

"Favorite?" Was he a parrot? "I'm your favorite?" He wanted to scream. He wanted to dance. He wanted to rocket into the fucking sun.

"Y-yeah. Is that weird to say? Um, I don't want to make it awkward--"

"No, no! No, it's fine!"

"Really? Ah...That's a relief..."

"Yeah."

Neither of them said anything for a while. Noya couldn't help but bask in the glow of being his favorite's favorite. Imagine that! Maybe he wasn't being that much of a creep after all! He had a chance! A chance!!

"So..." Asahi broke the silence awkwardly. "What do you need fixed?"

Noya took a deep breath, the kind of soul-strengthening breath he always took before he said something stupid on purpose.

"A broken heart." 

Asahi sputtered.

“A- you- I-I don't think I have the manual for- Wh-who broke your heart?"

"You did," Noya said matter-of-factly. He was gaining speed now. 

"I- r-really?" Asahi's voice was strangely small. 

"I can't see you anymore. I used all of my free repairs." 

"You... want to see me?" 

"I do. But I don't have an excuse to invite you over anymore."

Asahi coughed, embarrassed.

"What if, um. What if I said you didn't need an excuse?"

Noya held his breath.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I-if you want, I mean-"

"I do!!"

"You do??"

"Yeah!"

"Then..." Noya could even hear the smile in his voice. "It's a date."

**Author's Note:**

> comments are truly appreciated! my tumblr is also ceilingfan5 and i might even take requests ;) (with enough enthusiastic support, i might write an M rated sequel/addition? tell me what u think)


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